sevencruxestorulethemall

[sevencruxestorulethemall]

нαℓƒ αη∂ нαℓƒ мαкєѕ..?

pairing - Oliver Wood x F!Reader

summary - you are a demigod-witch, the first of your kind, and you quite literally fall out of the sky in full Hogwarts uniform, house Gryffindor. fortunately, you do fall on someone's lap, the very boy you'd soon fall in love with

warnings - it's a long one...

Maybe you'd taken a wrong turn in the Labyrinth.

But then why did it feel like you were falling?

Your eyes flew open, and you saw blue sky above you. You were falling! You tried to angle yourself in a way that would let you see what was below, and your eyes widened.

Grass.

Stands.

People.

Flying objects? No, flying people. On broomsticks.

You thought you might have a concussion. Then again, you had seen weirder things and been to weirder places. This must be a trick of one of the gods.

You tried to call on one of the gods, but either they were too busy laughing at your predicament or they were ignoring you. Even your father, Apollo, was silent.

The ground was getting close. Uncomfortably close. You could now see properly, and you were hurtling towards what looked like a sporting field, but a very weird one. A semi-circle of grass with three varying lengths of hoops on either side, surrounded by stands filled with people.

You landed right on someone's lap.

"Oliver Wood makes another catch!" Someone cried through a megaphone. "Is that...a girl?"

You looked up into stunned brown eyes, the boy staring at you like you had just, well, fallen out of the sky. You stared back, unsure of what to say since your arms were also wrapped around his neck.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, the boy lowered you both onto the ground, allowing you to get off. It seemed whatever sport they'd been playing had been stopped, all eyes on you now. You assumed that even in a world of people flying on broomsticks, falling out of the sky was not normal.

"Who are you?" The boy whose lap you'd landed on asked. I've seen all the Gryffindors and I've never seen you before."

Gryffindors..?

You looked down at yourself, only now realising what you were wearing. Long, black robes, a skirt, a jersey with a shirt and red-and-gold tie underneath. The robe was emblazoned with the symbol of a lion.

"I'm sorry, what are Gryffindors?" You frowned, confused.

A group of adults came rushing over just then, their eyes wide with shock. They gathered around the boy with the pretty brown eyes, each looking you up and down in shock.

"Where am I?" You asked. "This doesn't look like Camp Half-Blood." This seemed to offend them, which confused you even more. "The camp for demigods?" Their faced turned sheet-white, which alarmed you.

"So they exist then?" An older lady turned to the wise-looking man with the white hair and beard.

"Wait, are you not demigods?" You frowned.

"Perhaps this is not the best place to discuss this," the old man spoke, "Come with us. Madam Hooch, I think that should be enough for today's game."

As he turned to leave, you followed. Everyone was staring at you, and you tried your best to ignore it. Your eyes landed on the boy who'd caught you - Oliver Wood, was it? But you quickly looked away, still a bit dazed from the fall and the fact that no one here knew what was going on.

You were taken to a castle, high up in one of the towers. The castle itself was majestic, and took your breath away. You were left in awe of it's halls and staircases - which apparently moved at random.

"What's your name?"

"(Name) (Last Name), sir," you answered, hesitantly.

"And where did you say you came from?" He asked, patiently and kindly. His eyes twinkled with a gentleness that mirrored Chiron's.

"Um, technically I think I fell out of Daedalus's Labyrinth, but I come from Camp Half-Blood." You shifted your weight nervously, tense and slightly afraid.

You expected your words to make no sense to them, but to your surprise they exchanged worried looks like they knew what this meant.

"Who is your parent?" The old, kindly man asked.

As a habit, you answered, "Apollo."

This seemed to make them relax a bit. You'd had enough experience with unwanted, powerful demigod children to know that they had feared you were a child of the big three, namely Zeus, Hades and Poseidon. Like your friend Percy, children of those three were extremely powerful and unpredictable, so you understood why they had been so worried.

"I'm sorry, sir," you spoke up, "Who are you and where am I?"

"I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

That explained it. The flying brooms, the robes, the weird sport...they were sorcerers.

"Might I ask..." Dumbledore started, "Who is your mortal parent?"

When you told them your mother's name, they gasped and once again, exchanged looks.

"Ah," Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, "It would seem that you are also a witch, Miss (Last Name)."

Learning that you were not only a demigod but a witch too was staggering - and you'd been through a lot, and seen a lot. You'd never expected your mother to be a witch, since she hid it quite well. Or maybe she had thought that since being a demigod was hard enough, she'd never tell you about your witch blood.

The professors were quite understanding, and very helpful. They explained everything to you, and enrolled you right then and there for the current school year. They assured you they'd assist you in getting everything you needed, and all you'd have to worry about was getting to classes.

Which they had a certain boy show you to.

"We've never had a demigod here before," he glanced at you, "Are you really half god?"

"Unfortunately," you sighed. "My father is the Greek god Apollo. God of archery, music, healing, plagues, et cetera, et cetera. It's not as great as it sounds, trust me."

"Why not?" Oliver asked curiously.

"Well, since the age of twelve we're basically hunted down by monsters. The bigger your godly parent, the worse the monsters. I was tormented by dracanae, snake ladies, because my father's worst enemy is a giant python. Gives us Apollo kids a deathly fear of snakes."

"You might not like Slytherin house then," he replied, confused but also fascinated. Though, he didn't sound too unhappy about you not liking Slytherin house.

"Slytherin house?" You repeated. "The green one, right? With the snake emblem?"

"That's the one. Full of the worst of wizards and witches."

"We have a cabin like that at camp," you tensed at the mere mention of them, "The Ares cabin, children of the war god."

As Oliver continued to show you around, explaining what he could about classes and the castle and your domitory, you both exchanged stories about the wizarding world and the demigod one. It was interesting to hear something new, something different from what you were accustomed to.

By the time night fell, you felt as though you were a little bit more prepared for the year. You had, by now, figured out that this was either Zeus or Hera's doing, given that Hera hated your father and Zeus was just s grumpy old man who liked to meddle in demigod lives.

Children of Apollo were generally extroverted, outgoing people, but the other girls in the dorm were the nervous ones.

The next couple of days were hard. You had been on a lot of quests, but none of them compared to the frightening reality of being stuck in a school where you knew no one, in a world you didn't know much about.

You would have rather fought more dracanae.

"Having trouble?"

You turned around to see Oliver, who had seemingly left his friends to come speak to you, "Unfortunately, people are not as welcoming here as they are at camp."

He chuckled, "Well, you are part Greek god. They're just intimidated."

"And you're not?" You raised an eyebrow, but smiled.

He smiled back, "I think you're nice enough. And you haven't blown any of us up, so..."

"I can't do that!" You laughed. "The worst I can do is-"

"Got yourself a girlfriend there, Wood?" A voice behind you sneered. "And it's the freak, too."

"Back off, Flint," Oliver's expression hardened.

You turned around, to see a boy in desperate need of a dentist. Or an orthodontist. Either way, that jaw and those teeth needed fixing. Your disgust must have shown on your face, because he glared at you.

"What are you looking at, freak?"

You muttered something in response, a little incantation. They just laughed at you, because nothing happened, until Crooked Teeth actually spoke.

"What was that, freak? Are your spells too weak?" He frowned, then spoke again, but whatever he said continued to rhyme.

Next to you, Oliver laughed, "What did you do to him?"

"A little trick some Apollo kids can do," you grinned at him. "I cursed him to only speak in rhymes for a week. That doesn't seem too harsh, does it?"

"Not at all," he continued to laugh. "I think it's brilliant."

The Slytherin students quickly learned that you were not to be trifled with, and avoided you at all costs. They didn't even know the full extent of what you could do, which you found hilarious. After that, the other houses warmed up to you and you quickly made friends.

But by far your favourite was Oliver.

And, even though you'd only known him for a little while, you were beginning to develop a crush on the Quidditch captain.

But you didn't think he would like you back.

That's why you didn't think much of it when he invited you into the Quidditch changing rooms to see the robes and the brooms and the equipment.

That's why you didn't think much of it when he started finding you at the Gryffindor table, eating his meals with you.

You didn't think much of him hanging around you more than anyone, offering to help you with your work, showing you around when you got lost.

"I think he fancies you," one of your friends giggled as Oliver smiled at you from where he was hovering on the Quidditch pitch.

"No, he doesn't," your cheeks burned. "He's just friendly."

The game kicked off, Slytherin house starting off as dirty as ever. You hardly heard what your friend said after that, too engrossed in trying to see how the game worked. That, and watching Oliver at his post.

The red ball - the quaffle - flew at him as a Slytherin chaser passed, but he easily caught it and tossed it to one of the Gryffindor chasers. Then he turned to look directly at you.

"See?" Your friend nudged you, "He's even looking to see if you're impressed! He's trying to impress you!"

"That's a bit of a stretch," you tried to keep your composure, but the butterflies bloomed in your stomach anyway. "I think he's just checking to see if I'm following the game."

"You're hopeless," she sighed. "Isn't your dad good at flirting? Shouldn't you know when a boy likes you?"

You sighed, "I don't know, I guess I was too busy when I was at camp to notice if anyone liked me. So I don't think I could tell, even if I had my father's charm which I definitely do not."

"Well, I'm pretty sure he likes you."

You bit your lip, trying to focus on the game and not on the way your heartbeat picked up at the thought of him liking you too.

Oliver made a few more good saves before Flint - or Crooked Teeth, as you liked to call him - and his other chasers overwhelmed the Gryffindor keeper and sent him spiralling down to the ground. You gasped and got up, rushing to go and see if he was okay.

"I'm alright," he told you, sitting up, groaning. He looked okay, but only because he hadn't fallen directly, just spun out of control.

"Let me see."

You gently examined him, checking for any outward injuries before you you felt around for any inner ones. Both of your faces burned at the contact, and the closeness.

"Yeah, you should be okay," you hummed, pulling away. "You're not going back out there, are you?"

"If I can play, I will," he answered determinedly.

You figured there was no stopping him. You had enough stubborn friends at camp to know that, so you sighed and let him go. Watching as he flew back up to the giant hoops.

After the game, which ended when his newest player - the apparently famous Harry Potter - caught the little golden ball, known as the golden snitch. You assumed Harry must be just like Percy - a hero chosen by fate, forced into fame and unfortunately the target of the worst creatures imagineable.

"Well done," you smiled at Oliver as he came out of the change rooms.

He returned your smile, "Thanks. What did you think?"

"Well, it's definitely confusing," you laughed. "But I may just get the hang of it soon enough."

"You will. What kind of sports do demigods play, anyway?"

You laughed nervously, "The dangerous sort. Capture-the-flag, obstacle courses that are designed to kill, climbing lava walls...not really sports, but similiar."

His eyes widened, "Right..."

You laughed at the look on his face, "It's easy when you've got the ADHD and the reflexes for it. Quidditch looks scary too, actually."

"Can't argue with that," he chuckled.

You walked with him back to the castle, butterflies fluttering around your stomach again. You couldn't help it, being around him was both intoxicating and nerve-wracking. Your stomach always churned when he looked at you, though in a good way.

"Thanks for coming to check on me, by the way," he glanced at you. "On the pitch. Not many people would do that."

You tried to lie, brushing it off as, "Well, my dad is the god of healing. When anyone's injured at camp, we're always the first to be called." Instead of telling him the real reason why you did.

"Our own on-site doctor," he chuckled.

You laughed, and continued to make your way back to the common room.

And, with a sinking feeling, you realised you were in love.

[sevencruxestorulethemall]

ᵤₙᵢₘₚᵣₑₛₛₑd

pairing - Oliver Wood x F!Reader

summary - unlike all the other girls, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor does NOT impress you and Oliver takes too much pleasure in your distaste

warnings - none

Oliver sensed your irritation from a few tables away, judging by the way he was trying to conceal his laughter.

He watched you silently fume as your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher boasted about himself and his achievements, straying so far off topic that you might as well be in another class. The girls around you were sighing longingly or admiring the new professor, each with a lovestruck look on their faces, which only irritated you more.

"Miss (Last Name), would you please assist me in demonstrating the disarming spell?" Professor Lockhart called, picking you out specifically for your look of disdain.

"Yes, professor," you got up, walking to the front of the class and ignoring the envious looks from your female classmates and your boyfriend snickering in the back of the classroom. He was enjoying this way too much.

You stood across from the blonde professor, raising your wand, "Expelliarmus!"

His wand flew out of his hand, and he turned to you, stunned.

"Very well done, Miss (Last Name)."

You took your seat again, trying to hush your friends who were obsessing over the way Lockhart had complimented you. Your eyes met Oliver's, and they were gleaming with amusement.

"Shut up," you grumbled after class, as he approached you.

He laughed, "I didn't say anything."

"Yet."

"I was just going to say nice form," he chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah." You turned to walk away, playfully rolling your eyes. Only to be grabbed and spun back around and pulled against him.

"You could have given him a chance, though," he teased.

"He's a professor, he should be quicker than that," you grumbled.

He laughed, "It is nice to know that you're unaffected by his charms, though."

"What charms?" You laughed.

"You know, his award-winning smile..."

You laughed harder, "Please. The only award-winning smile I see around here is yours. The only smile that can put me into a daze like those girls is yours. Your charm is the only charm I ever fall for."

He grinned, kissing you.

The next few days brought on some of Hogwarts's darkest hours. Muggle-born students were being targeted for the crime of studying at the school, and something called the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.

So Professor Lockhart was given permission to start a duelling club.

As you stood with Oliver behind a few of the younger students, your eyes followed the professor as he walked up and down, explaining the situation. You remained unimpressed, your hand finding Oliver's and holding it.

Again, your boyfriend was entertained by the irritable expression you wore.

"Please allow me to introduce my assistant, Professor Snape."

You watched as Professor Snape, just as unimpressed by Lockhart as you were, approached the DADA professor. They bowed to each other, raised wands, and turned to walk to the two opposing ends of the table.

Before Lockhart could finish counting to three, Snape had disarmed him.

"Expelliarmus!"

As Lockhart's wand flew out of his hand and he was blasted onto his back by the force, you tried your best not to laugh. Girls around you gasped dramatically and craned their necks to see if he was okay, while you buried your face in Oliver's arm and laughed quietly.

The next time Lockhart disturbed you was when you were asked by another professor to deliver something to him. You were rushing to the Quidditch pitch in fear of missing the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game, because you felt like you were going to be late.

Unfortunately, you wouldn't ever refuse a professor.

Your walk to Lockhart's classroom came with a lot of offers to take the papers to the professor for you. Apparently, some girls had overheard your detour assignment. But you didn't trust them to do it without losing some of the papers or dropping them upon seeing the DADA professor smile.

"Here you go, professor."

"Ah, Miss (Last Name)!" He beamed, taking the papers. "Thank you! Let me just..." Without warning, he grabbed a quill, signed some parchment, and handed it to you.

"Oh, uh, thank you, sir," you frowned, but put it in your pocket anyway. Before he could say anything else, you quickly left.

You took off sprinting towards the Quidditch fields.

Only to slam right into someone, both of you falling to the ground.

"And where are you off in such a rush to?" Oliver chuckled beneath you, hands instinctively gripping your waist.

Your eyes widened, "What are you doing here?? You're-"

"Game got cancelled," he stood up with you, dusting you off before himself - ever the gentleman.

"How come?" You frowned.

"Not sure," he shrugged, "But-" He spotted the piece of parchment with Lockhart's signature, which was now lying on the ground between you both. "What's that?"

Your eyes widened once more, "Nothing!" You tried to snatch it up before him, but Oliver's reflexes were so much better than yours. He wouldn't have been such a good Keeper if they weren't, after all. "Don't look at that!"

"Oh, you got his autograph, hmm?" He teased, holding back laughter. "When did you become a fan?"

"I didn't, he just gave it to me!" You protested, exasperated.

Oliver laughed, "And what were you doing in his office anyway?"

"Professor McGonagall asked me to give him something," you sighed. "While I was running to come here."

Your cheeks burned as embarrassment filled you when your boyfriend started laughing harder. You'd never seen him so amused before, and you were sure it was because of how much Lockhart bothered you.

"Stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry, love, but it is hilarious how much you can't stand him."

"It is not!"

He tossed the signature aside, letting the wind carry it away. His arms snaked around your waist, gently tugging your body against his.

"You're cute when you're all red like this," he grinned, "Though I have to wonder, is it because of me or Professor Lock-"

"Ooookay and we're done here."

You turned and walked away, and he laughed behind you as he followed.

[sevencruxestorulethemall]

𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕝...𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕔𝕙

pairing - Oliver Wood x F!Reader

summary - some say he's married to his broom, and even after you start dating that doesn't change. but the reason WHY he stays out so long does.

warnings - none

a/n - this went in the complete opposite direction of what i had planned...oh well

"Has anyone seen Oliver?"

"He's probably out on the Quitdditch pitch again."

They told you not to try your luck. They told you it was hopeless, that he was too engrossed in the wizarding sport to entertain the idea of an actual romantic relationship.

Fortunately, you had a habit of not listening.

Sure enough, you found the Gryffindor captain out on the pitch. He had somehow charmed the Quaffle into flying at him in various different ways, heights and speeds - rather than doing the normal thing and asking someone to throw it at him. The sight made you laugh a little, and you sat in the stands.

Waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

You sighed and stood up, opening your mouth to call out to him when a bludger somehow got loose from its confines and sprung up into the air...before hurtling towards you. Out of shock, you stumbled forward and fell over the side, your eyes widening as the stands moved further and further away from you.

The sound of a bat hitting a bludger met your ears, and then you landed on someone's lap. Your eyes shot up to meet a pair of worried brown ones, your heart thundering in your chest.

"Thanks," you breathed out, figuring that was the only thing you could say that would make sense at this moment.

He smiled at you, "You're welcome."

He set you down on the grass before chasing after the bludger, and you watched in awe as he skilfully caught it and shoved it bsck into the Quidditch case.

"Are you okay?" He approached you after, broom in hand.

"I am," you smiled, "Thanks to you."

"What were you doing up there anyway?" He raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated here, the words of your fellow housemates echoing in your mind. For a moment, you were tempted not to tell him, but what were Gryffindors if not brave?

"I was trying to get your attention."

His eyes widened slightly, before he chuckled, "And you thought sitting there quietly was going to do it?"

"In my defence, I did not expect you to be so in love with your broom," you teased.

"Oh, so it's like that?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I'm just a little more...committed."

"You mean obsessed."

"I am going to choose to ignore that," he replied, making you laugh. "And instead ask you why you were trying to get my attention." You froze.

From that day on, you would join the captain out on the pitch whenever he went. Sometimes he would seek you out to ask you, sometimes you would go out to accompany him by your own will. In both instances, he enjoyed your presence.

After what felt like your millionth Quidditch "date", he asked you out on a real one.

"(Name)?" He approached you after one class, looking a bit more nervous than usual.

"Yeah?" You smiled, thinking nothing of it.

"Will you...come with me onto the pitch today?"

"Of course," you raised an eyebrow, "Why are you so nervous?"

"You'll see," he grinned. "Meet me out there straight after your last class."

"I'll need time to get ready!" You protested, teasingly.

"No need," his eyes roamed your face, "You'd look beautiful regardless."

Before you could react to his words, he was gone. Leaving you flustered with hot cheeks and a racing heart. You couldn't believe it. Your attempt to court him had been somewhat successful.

You ignored the stupefied expressions on your friends' faces, going about your day as normal. Though a little jittery now.

When the time came for you to meet him, you still tried to neaten your hair and robes on the way out. His compliment once again rang through your mind, but you couldn't help but feel like you needed to look good for him for your sake.

When you got to the field, he was nowhere to be seen. You frowned, thinking you were too late, until he landed right in front of you and you fell back.

He laughed and you glared, "Not funny!"

He chuckled and helped you up, "Come on. I've got different plans for us today."

That included, apparently, a romantic flight. You held onto him as tightly as you could, feeling your stomach churn - but in a pleasant way. Being this close to him was dizzying - amazing but also so nerve-wracking you might pass out.

"You okay there?" He called over his shoulder, taking you around the school.

"Yeah, fine," you swallowed thickly, but your grip on him tightened.

He stopped on the hill near the Owlery, overlooking the school grounds. He knew it was one of your favourite views, especially as the sun was getting lower in the sky. The golden light that spread over the castle was breathtaking, and it was no different this time.

You breath caught in your throat, your hand subconsciously finding his and intertwining your fingers. His grip on yours tightened, and it was then that you realised.

"Oh!" You quickly pulled away, "Sorry!"

He laughed, "Are you going to keep pretending you don't know why I brought you here?"

Your cheeks burned, and you bit your lip nervously, "I thought it was too good to be true, honestly. I've fancied you for so long it's a bit surreal to find out you feel the same way."

"Then how about this?"

He leaned in and kissed you. Slow and sweet, tender just like every gesture he made towards you. It was a short, affectionate sweet, but still took your breath away.

"Yeah...that works."

After your first date, your following dates were all similar, if not the same. Though people still believed he was Quidditch-obsessed even after word got out that he'd finally gotten a girlfriend, because now he spent even more time out there.

When people looked for him, they would still assume he was doing something involving Quidditch.

And he was.

You were sitting in the change room, watching him scarf down the food you'd brought for him. You were both amused and slightly concerned.

"How do you forget to come for dinner?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Important game," was all he said as he continued inhaling food.

This was the first time he'd done so, but you figured it might be because he knew you would take care of him.

People assumed he spent so much time in the Quidditch rooms because he was overly into the sport, which used to be true. But now he spent time in there with you, the only moments alone you both could steal.

Some of it was spent talking about your day and cuddling, some it was spent helping him polish his broom, and a little part of it was spent making out. But regardless, you enjoyed every moment you shared with him in there, because he was making an effort to integrate the two most important aspects of his life.

He made you feel even more special by letting you throw the Quaffle at him instead of charming it, which often made extremely fun dates. People would look outside and see a ball flying at Oliver and assume he was practicing on his own again, never knowing it was actually you.

You didn't blame them for thinking he was Quidditch-obsessed because he was.

But nowadays, his time on the pitch meant more alone time with you, because it was the only time and place you could have to yourselves.

Same story, different reason.

[sevencruxestorulethemall]

α ɱεɱσ૨αɓℓε ɳเɠɦƭ

pairing - Oliver Wood x F!Reader

summary - Professor McGonagall surprises you the night of the Yule Ball, after convincing you to attend when you refused to go

warnings - none

You'd always dreaded the year you'd have to spend without Oliver in the school. Even a normal school year seemed bleak without his presence to keep you going, but the universe seemed to hate you because your seventh year at Hogwarts would be far from an ordinary school year.

The Triwizard Tournament brought a challenge for everyone, regardless of champion status - the Yule Ball.

But while everyone else was running around looking for dates, asking their crushes out...you were going about your usual business. Not looking twice at any boy who approached you.

You didn't want to go if you couldn't go with Oliver.

However, Cedric Diggory and a Durmstrang boy had other plans for you.

Now, anyone with eyes can tell you that the Durmstrang boys and the Hufflepuff prefect were attractive, and walking in with either one would turn heads. That, and Cedric was a Triwizard champion.

Unfortunately for them, you weren't looking for a date.

"I'm sorry, Cedric, but I don't think I'll be attending," you offered him an apologetic smile.

He nodded in understanding, though looking a bit disappointed. That made you feel bad, but not as bad as you would have felt if you'd accepted him as a date and ended up thinking about your boyfriend the entire night.

A mere few hours later, however, a Durmstrang student tried his luck. He approached you with a charming smile that would have given you butterflies if you weren't in love with Oliver.

"Hello. Your name (Name), yes?" His thick Bulgarian accent did not match his smile.

"That's right," you offered a friendly smile.

"Would you like to go to the ball with me?"

"I'm afraid Miss (Last Name) is already taken," a familiar professor spoke from behind you. The Durmstrang boy nodded respectfully and left.

You turned to your head of house, confused, "I'm sorry, professor?"

Professor McGonagall smiled, gesturing for you to walk with her. You obeyed and fell into step beside her, wondering what this was about.

"I heard that you were planning to skip the Ball," she finally spoke. "May I ask why?"

Your cheeks heated up, the thought of having to explain your reasoning to your head of house being too embarrassing to bear. But she turned to look at you expectantly, so you answered.

"I just don't want to go with anyone that's not Oliver, professor."

Her lips curled into a smile. YOur relationship with Oliver spanned a few years. You'd known him since your first year and his second, and he'd asked you out in your fourth year and his fifth. The entire time, Professor McGonagall watched the two of you only get closer. She was well aware of how attached you were to him.

"Will you not go with your friends?" She suggested.

"They...all have dates," you admitted, your face burning now with embarrassment.

"I see," she hummed thoughtfully. "Well, do consider changing your mind. The Yule Ball is an extraordinary event that no student should have to miss." Her eyes sparkled with something, for a moment, but you couldn't tell what.

"I will, professor."

Days later, you sat on your bed an hour before the ball was scheduled to start. Your dress was laid out before you, your mind running through a debate of whether to go or not. Since your conversation with Professor McGonagall, the Durmstrang boy had asked twice more, apparently having heard from one of your friends that you were not taken.

Speaking of your friends, who were long gone to find their dates, they had been acting weird this entire day. Giggling amongst themselves, pestering you to join them at the ball, and promising that you'll be thrilled. It drove you mad trying to decipher their behaviour.

You decided to go, although you weren't sure why. Call it a feeling.

When you were ready, you nervously made your way to the Great Hall. You didn't have a date, first of all, and secondly you were one of the last to get there.

You stopped halfway down the stairs, once your eyes connected with a pair of familiar, warm brown ones.

There, amongst the students gathered at the bottom of the stairs, stood the most handsome boy you'd ever seen. In dress robes that had your head spinning. He looked too good to be true, and this felt too good to be true.

For a moment you just stood there, shock freezing you to the spot. Then, when he smiled with the most awestruck look in his eyes, you bounded down the stairs and ran up to him, throwing your arms around his neck, lips meeting in a fierce kiss.

Oliver chuckled against your lips, his hands coming to rest on your lower back as you embraced him with the might of a dragon. He kissed you deeply, silently conveying that he had missed this, missed you, just as much as you did.

"I can't believe you're here!" You beamed when you parted, one of your hands coming to rest on his cheek. "How..?"

"Well, I heard you weren't going to go with anyone but me," he grinned, a little too smugly for your liking. His thick Scottish accent made you shiver, pleasantly, and was like music to your ears after so long not hearing it.

Your eyes found Professor McGonagall as she came to fetch the champions, and the knowing smile on her face made you realise this was her doing. You smiled brightly at her, thanking her with your eyes before looking back at Oliver. Your eyes roamed his face, the face you'd never forget and could spend an eternity staring at.

"Come on," he laughed when he noticed you were just watching him, unmoving. "We'll be the last ones in." He guided you into the Great Hall with his one hand still on your back.

The champions danced first, but once Neville guided Ginny onto the dancefloor the rest of the students followed suit. Soon you were slow-dancing with your boyfriend, still looking up at him in awe and slight shock.

"So Fred told me an interesting thing before you came down the stairs," he pulled you closer, gently swaying with you.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow. "What did he tell you?"

"Cedric Diggory asked you to be his date?"

You groaned, "I'm going to kill that twin!"

Oliver laughed, "Before you do that, I'm not bothered by it. I'm just curious why you didn't agree go come with who seems to be the most attractive boy in your year...apparently."

At that, you started laughing, "That's the view of most girls here. Not mine, however. I declined because I wanted to come with the most attractive guy I know." You smiled at him warmly. "The only guy I want to go with to everything."

He pulled you right against him, earning a small squeak from you as his hands gripped your waist, "Now what am I supposed to say to that, hm?"

"Nothing," you grinned. "I kind of hoped you'd be speechless."

He laughed with you, and leaned down to kiss you gently.

The rest of the evening he spent telling you about his time with Puddlemere United so far, and you brought him up to speed on the Triwizard Tournament. It felt so good to talk to him in person again, and getting to hold his hand the entire time made it even better.

You were probably the last to leave the Great Hall, in the early hours of the morning. Oliver walked you back to the Gryffindor common room, and although you didn't want to let him go you knew you had to. So you parted with a kiss and a promise that he'd try to come again soon, maybe to watch one of the trials.

Exhausted but happy, you flopped onto your bed with the most lovestruck grin on your face, one that remained until you fell fast asleep.

Professor McGonagall got a nice little gift from you the very next day.